I had broken my leg playing football and had "Swales Out" written in big letters in jumbo marker down the front of my plaster cast, which made its way onto the TV news coverage of one of the big pre-match protests.
There was a vicar who was one of the leaders of the campaign to oust Swales. A middle-aged, grey haired Blue in a dog collar trying to persuade hundreds of angry, beered-up footy lads to do a 'sit-in' on the concourse in front of the main entrance, in the style of San Francisco in 1968, was none of the many surreal sights of that time.
There was the famous Ipswich game which was abandoned for a waterlogged pitch when we were 2-0 up, and loads of us stayed on the Kippax until 4.45pm, chanting Swales out and even whistling for the non-existent ref to blow for time.
I remember the Mirror were Franny's mouthpiece at the time, even doing Forward With Franny badges, and loved stirring the shit.